


Luck of the Irish

by eternaleponine



Series: Love Makes A Family [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Foster Care, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: It's been a month since Aden came to live with Lexa until a more permanent foster home can be found, and she decides that it's finally time to introduce him to Clarke, and vice versa.





	Luck of the Irish

"Do you have plans tonight?" Lexa asked, her lips brushing Clarke's earlobe as she propped her chin on her shoulder and slid one arm around her waist. She'd used the key Clarke had given her to let herself into Clarke's apartment, and found her in her studio, her forehead furrowed as she roughed in the lines of a sketch on a large canvas, working from a smaller drawing clipped to the corner. Lexa assumed it would eventually become a painting, as that seemed to be Clarke's medium of choice at the moment. 

"I didn't," Clarke said, her hand stilling and her head tipping to the side to give Lexa a clear path down the column of her throat. Lexa peeled back the collar of the button-down Clarke wore, oversized and paint-spattered. Lexa might have called it a smock, but it wasn't covering anything but Clarke's bare skin and a pair of boy shorts. Clarke's pulse quickened under the press of her lips, and Lexa's heart thudded against her ribs in response, sending blood rushing downward. She pressed her thighs together against the throbbing between her legs. "Do I now?"

"Come to dinner," Lexa said. "My place. Six o'clock."

Clarke turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Is Aden...?"

It had been a month since Aden had come to live with Lexa, and Clarke still hadn't met him. At first Lexa had wanted to give him the chance to settle in, then they'd gotten tangled up trying to figure out what, if any, rules existed about foster children meeting dating partners of their foster parents. There was plenty about spouses, and about other adults living in the home, but next to nothing about whether it was okay to introduce a child to someone you were dating but not living with. They'd finally just asked, and were informed that there really weren't any rules, but that if it they were someone the child was likely to spend any significant amount of time with, they could always run a background check just to be on the safe side. So they'd had his case worker, Harper, do that, and it had taken a little while for the result to come in. Then Clarke had gotten busy with work and projects, and, well... here they were.

"He'll be there."

"Are you sure?" Clarke asked. 

"I'm sure he'll be there," Lexa said, smiling.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I mean are you sure you want—" She stopped herself before Lexa could interrupt and insist that yes, of course she wanted Clarke to meet him. "Are you sure he's ready?"

Lexa drew her in and kissed her softly, grateful for how understanding Clarke had been while they'd sorted things out, and even more grateful at how concerned she was for a boy she'd never met, even though he'd come out of nowhere and turned both of their lives upside-down. They talked every day, or at least texted, and they'd made a point to find a way to see each other at least every few days, with Lexa taking a long lunch, or going into work late or leaving early so they could spend some time together. Occasionally that time was even spent with their clothes on. 

"I'm sure," Lexa said as their lips parted. "He's been asking about you."

Clarke's smile, the way it lit up her eyes, was enough to make Lexa's breath catch and her heart skip a beat, and she wished for a second that she was an artist and could capture that moment in ink or watercolor or oil, but then was glad she wasn't, because she could have spent a lifetime trying and never getting it quite right. And then Clarke's mouth was on hers again, soft but not quite gentle, the kind of kiss that she poured her whole self into, the kind of kiss that asked for the same in return and wouldn't take no for an answer. 

"Is that a yes then?" Lexa asked, when they finally had to break for air. 

"Yes," Clarke said. She'd managed to work the back of Lexa's blouse out of the waistband of her slacks and her fingertips dug into the small of Lexa's back, damp with sweat from the heat of the kiss. "Do you have to go back to the office, or...?"

Lexa shook her head. "I told them I was—" But Clarke didn't let her finish. Her lips crushed against Lexa's again, and she made quick work of all the buttons and zippers that kept Lexa's professional persona in place, stripping her down to the lacy bra and panties Lexa had worn, knowing this scenario was not so much a possibility as a likelihood. Clarke had seen her in every possible state of dress and undress at this point, but it didn't stop Lexa from wanting to make herself a gift worth unwrapping.

"God _damn_ you are fucking gorgeous," Clarke muttered, hooking her thumbs in the elastic at Lexa's hips and dragging it down slightly, but not pulling them off, not yet. Her fingers left smudges of charcoal on Lexa's skin where she touched, so she found a towel and wiped her hands off, then slipped her fingers into Lexa's panties and laughed softly at Lexa's shuddering moan. 

Lexa wasn't sure if she ended up on the floor of the studio, sprawled in a pile of drop cloths, before or after she came, but probably it happened somewhere in the middle of the orgasm that stretched on for longer than it seemed like it should be possible to endure that level of sensation. 

"Don't move," Clarke whispered, and Lexa couldn't even muster the energy to laugh or tell her that there was absolutely no chance of that happening any time soon. The only thing she managed was to turn her head and watch Clarke through half-lidded eyes as she grabbed a sketch pad and began to draw. 

By the time Clarke finished, holding the pose had become a choice rather than the only option, and Lexa held out her hand when Clarke tucked her pencil into the spiral binding. "Come here," she said. "Show me." 

Clarke crawled over to her and settled at her side, tilting the page so Lexa could see herself sprawling loose-limbed, one arm curved upward, the other at her side, her fingers relaxed but still curved from clawing at the sheet beneath her. Her legs were spread wantonly, one bent more than the other, her panties riding low on her hips, never pulled back up after Clarke's hand was withdrawn. One strap of her bra was off her shoulder, and her nipple just peeped from the top edge of the cup, and Lexa could still remember the graze of Clarke's teeth over sensitive flesh as she'd sucked its prominent peak. Lexa's breath caught, and Clarke turned to look at her, smiling. "I told you you're beautiful," she said.

Lexa took the sketchbook from her and set it gently aside, not wanting to risk it getting damaged... then pushed Clarke back and rolled on top of her, making quick work of the buttons of her shirt and shimmying the shorts down her thighs, covering her skin with kisses until Clarke's entire body was quivering, asking for more, please, _now_ , without a single word. 

And revenge for making her come so hard she'd been unable to remain upright was so, so sweet. 

Clarke kissed the taste of herself from Lexa's lips, and Lexa melted into it, combing her fingers through Clarke's hair and knocking loose a paintbrush that had been stabbed through her messy bun so that it all tumbled down. 

"You know that's always been a fantasy of mine," Clarke murmured, her lips brushing Lexa's. 

"What? To draw someone you'd just fucked senseless?" Lexa asked. 

"That too," Clarke said, "but no. To have my muse pull me down and fuck _me_ senseless."

Lexa smiled. "Happy to oblige, then," she said. "Although if you're still talking, are you _truly_ senseless?"

* * *

Lexa's knees were still wobbly as she pulled up to the school. She'd showered and changed at Clarke's (because it turned out that her skin wasn't the only thing that had been smudged with charcoal) and she hoped that Aden wouldn't ask why she was picking him up wearing something different than what she'd dropped him off in that morning. 

She waved to Tris as Aden opened the door to the back seat and tossed his backpack in, where it landed next to the bag that held Lexa's work clothes, then slid into the seat next to her. "Hi," he said, clicking his seatbelt into place.

"Hi," she said. "How was your day?"

"SSDD," he responded, as smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. 

"Does implying a swear still require a contribution to the swear jar?" she asked, smiling back at him as she eased back onto the road. 

"If it did, the jar would be practically full by now, from all the times you say 'eff'," he pointed out. 

"Fair effing point," she conceded, and felt a burst of warmth in her chest when he grinned. "We need to stop at the store on our way home," she added. "We need to figure out something good to make for dinner." 

"No pizza?" he asked. 

It was what they'd had on the previous Friday nights they'd had together; a treat after a long week of school or work, and a reward for successfully navigating whatever obstacles had sprung up over the course of the week. It had mostly been smooth sailing – almost too smooth, Lexa thought, so that she felt like she ought to be bracing herself for when the storm finally hit. They were still learning each other's habits and quirks, but for the most part the process of finding a new normal and settling into a routine had been painless. 

The biggest challenges for Lexa had been not being able to spend nights with Clarke anymore, and not going to Luna's house for family dinners on Sundays like she was used to. She wasn't sure if Aden was ready to meet Derrick yet, and she was also concerned about introducing him to Adria, and having Adria get attached when they didn't know how long he would be around. The call that they had found a more permanent foster home for him could come any day, after all... but so far, it hadn't, and her reasons for holding out were feeling flimsier by the day. 

Introducing him to Clarke was the first step.

"We could do pizza," she said. "We can buy the premade dough... and a pizza pan, and sauce, and—"

"Why don't we just order it?" Aden asked. "Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Because Clarke's coming over, and I—"

"Clarke's coming over?" Aden asked. 

"Yes," Lexa said, glancing at him, trying to read his expression and tone. "We talked about this."

"I know," Aden said. "I just didn't remember it was tonight." He shrugged. 

"I'm not sure we actually decided on a day," Lexa admitted. "Not together. I just thought a Friday might be best, because we're not worried about school or work in the morning. Is it—is it too soon? I can—"

"No!" Aden said. "Today is fine. And homemade pizza sounds cool. Me and my mom used to make it sometimes, before..." His shoulders slumped. "She would always pick out all these crazy toppings, and she would put them on her pizza, and I would just put normal stuff on mine, and then half the time she'd end up eating mine, too, because hers was too weird." He laughed, a short, soft sound that was almost a sigh, then turned to look at Lexa, his eyes narrowed. "Pineapple on pizza? Delicious, or an abomination?"

"Abomination," Lexa said. 

Aden held up his hand for a high five, and she slapped it, then turned into the grocery store parking lot.

* * *

Lexa had texted Clarke from the store that if she wanted to come over and help make dinner, she was welcome to, so the doorbell rang as they were just starting to set out ingredients. 

"I'll get it!" Aden said, running for the door and skidding in his socks as he rounded the corner on the slippery tile. It was such a teenage boy thing to do, and it made Lexa smile to herself as she sprayed nonstick spray on the pizza pans. 

"You must be Aden!" Clarke said as the door closed behind her. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I'm Clarke." 

"I know," he said. "Your picture is all over the place." 

Clarke laughed. "You should have seen this place when I first met Lexa," she said. "There were no pictures anywhere! It was like no one lived here."

"Really?" Aden asked. He came into the kitchen and around to where Lexa was working. He took the other tray and blob of dough and tried to squash it flat. 

"Really," Clarke said. She went to the sink and washed her hands, then came up beside Lexa and kissed her cheek. Lexa smiled at her, wishing she could have a proper kiss – it didn't matter that they'd made out and made love for so long that afternoon that Lexa had had to drive over the limit the entire way to make it to Aden's school on time – but she knew that baby steps were probably best. Aden said he didn't have a problem with the fact that Lexa had a girlfriend, but that didn't mean he was prepared for PDA between them. "If I hadn't known better, I would have thought she had no personality at all." 

Aden smiled crookedly. "I guess if it looked like her work clothes do..."

"Hey!" Lexa said. "What does that mean?"

Aden shrugged. "Just that the clothes you wear to work and the clothes you wear when you're at home are like... two different people. Your work clothes are boring. They could be anybody." 

Lexa considered, then shrugged. "Okay, fair," she said. She didn't point out that it was a little like the pot calling the kettle black; the only decorations in his room were the painting that Clarke had made, and one picture of his mother that he kept propped against the lamp on his nightstand. He hadn't even put his clothing into drawers until after the first time he did laundry, and then only because it would have looked strange for him to put everything back in his suitcase. 

She got it. She did. This was a temporary arrangement, and Aden probably didn't want to get too comfortable when he might have to pack up and leave any moment. But it didn't mean she didn't feel a pang every time she looked at his blank walls and neatly made bed. 

"Can I give you a tip?" Clarke asked, coming around the corner. Aden looked at her, then nodded. "If you pick up the dough and stretch it – just let gravity do its thing – it will be a lot easier to spread." She pulled up the dough and demonstrated, draping it over her fists, moving it slowly from one to the other in a circle so the gluten relaxed and stretched. "Here," she said, offering it back to Aden. "You try."

They both watched as he did as Clarke had shown him, his smile growing just like the circle of dough. When it looked big enough, he spread it over the pan again, and this time it took only a little work to press it out to the edges. 

"Perfect!" Clarke declared. "Now where's the sauce?"

Lexa finished with her own dough, and they spread sauce and cheese over both, then spread out the selection of toppings they'd bought. Clarke looked them over, the tiny frown line that Lexa loved to kiss away forming between her brows. "What?" she asked. "No pineapple?" 

Lexa caught her wink, but Aden must have missed it, because he looked from Clarke to Lexa in horror. "Did you know about this?" he asked. "Are you _sure_ she's the one?" Clarke and Lexa looked at each other, mouths hanging open, not knowing what to say. Then Aden's face split into a grin and he laughed. "Gotcha," he said. "But really? You like _pineapple_ on _pizza_?"

Clarke shook her head, her answering laugh a little shaky. "No," she said. "Not really."

"Okay good," he said. "You can stay." He grabbed the package of pepperoni and set about laying it out in a pattern on his pizza. 

Lexa sagged a little against the counter, her heart racing while her head lagged behind, trying to process what had just happened. It felt as if Aden had just given Clarke his stamp of approval, accepted her as part of their little family unit, just like that... but it couldn't be that simple, could it? 

Clarke put her hand on Lexa's back, and Lexa turned her head and rested it against Clarke's temple, just for a second, trying to draw on her calm. "Love you," Clarke whispered, and Lexa squeezed her eyes shut against the pricking of tears. She sniffed and nodded and forced herself to straighten and turn her attention back to finishing dinner. 

Once the pizzas were in the oven, Aden went to go change out of his school clothes, leaving them alone together in the kitchen. Clarke was in Lexa's arms as soon as his door closed, and Lexa could feel that she wasn't nearly as steady as she'd seemed. 

"What just happened?" Clarke asked. 

"I don't know," Lexa admitted. "Maybe..." Her breath caught. "Maybe it wasn't Aden I should have worried about being ready for this. Maybe it's me who's not ready." 

"Maybe it's us," Clarke said, just as quietly. "There's the two of us, and there's the two of you, but..."

"But it feels like he just made it the three of us," Lexa said. 

"Yeah."

"Are you okay with that?" Lexa asked. 

Clarke nodded, then shook her head, then just buried her face against Lexa's neck, her fingers digging into her back. "I feel like I just downed several shots in rapid succession, and they all caught up to me at once."

"Yes!" Lexa said. "Yes, that, exactly!" 

Clarke tipped her face up and smiled, and Lexa kissed her once, then again, then a third time, feeling a little more steady with each kiss, even though they were soft and light and not the kind of kiss that was going anywhere, because there was a 13-year-old boy in the next room and they didn't want to traumatize him. 

They still had their arms around each other when he came out of his room. "Can we watch a movie or something while we eat?" he asked. 

"Sure," Lexa said. "Go pick something out." 

"Cool." He smiled at them, in that shy head-ducking way he had, and went into the living room, switching on the TV to see what Netflix had to offer. 

When the pizzas were ready they filled their plates and settled in the living room to watch some old episodes of Mythbusters, talking and laughing about the various experiments, joking about how maybe they should try to recreate one for Aden's school science fair. When they were too full to eat anymore, Clarke got up to put away the leftovers and do the dishes, and Aden got up with her. 

"I can—" Lexa started to say, but apparently, they had decided that since she was the one who had done the shopping, that made her the head chef, and therefore exempt from dish duty. She could hear them talking but couldn't make out the words over the sound of running water. She finally dragged her laptop into her lap, figuring she might as well catch up on a few of the things she'd set aside to spend the afternoon with Clarke while they were busy. 

When they came back, they watched a few more episodes, until Aden was yawning so wide and so frequently it looked painful. "I wonder if there's an episode about ya-a-awning," he said, and they both laughed. 

"Bedtime," Lexa said. "Sleep tight."

Aden just nodded and shuffled off without argument. Not that he ever argued with her about anything; she wondered if he would be here long enough for that day to finally come. 

"I should probably go too," Clarke said. "I seem to remember there being a painting at home that I wanted to get started today, but for some reason I never quite got around to it." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she pressed Lexa's back against the pile of throw pillows they'd been using to prop themselves up as they'd slumped lower and cuddled more with each successive episode.

"No regrets," Lexa said, brushing her fingers over the narrow strip of skin exposed between the hem of Clarke's shirt and the waistband of her pants. 

Clarke shivered. "None," she said, her voice gone husky... and things might have escalated if Aden hadn't chosen that moment to exit the bathroom and pad across the hall to his room. His door closed with a click, and Lexa let out a breath.

"You should go," she said softly. "As much as I don't want you to..."

"I know," Clarke said. She sat up, and Lexa walked her to the door, where they kissed almost chastely and said their good nights. Lexa did a quick once-over of the kitchen and living room, making sure the hadn't missed any dishes or sauce splatters, then shut herself in her room. She shed her clothes and crawled into bed, and pressed her face into her pillow so no sound escaped when she finally let the tears come.

* * *

Lexa was sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of tea when Aden emerged from his room, tousle-headed and bleary-eyed. He went straight to the bathroom, and when he came out again, his expression was a little more alert, but he hadn't done anything about his hair. Lexa smiled into her mug and wondered if it would be wrong of her to try to snap a picture. 

"Where's Clarke?" Aden asked as he poured cereal into a bowl. 

"She went home," Lexa said. 

Aden looked up from pouring milk over the flakes and clusters, frowning. "Oh. I thought she was going to stay. She said she was going to help me with my visual aid for my Language Arts presentation."

"Did she?" Lexa asked. Her stomach did a funny sort of flip, and she found herself fighting a smile as Aden came and sat next to her. "How good are you at puppy-dog eyes?" she asked. 

He cocked his head, frowning again, but then something kindled in his eyes. "They always worked on my mom," he said. "Well, almost always."

Lexa smiled and scooted closer to him, putting one hand on his shoulder lightly, holding her phone out with the other. "On three. One, two..." She snapped a picture of them both doing their best sad puppy faces, then texted it to Clarke.

**LEXA:** Come back. We miss you.

**LEXA:** He said you were going to help him with a project?

A response popped up a second later.

**CLARKE:** I did.

**CLARKE:** Is that okay?

**LEXA:** Next time we have a place to ourselves, I will show you just how okay that is.

**CLARKE:** On my way. 😉

When she set her phone down, Aden looked up from his cereal. "Is it because of me?" he asked. "That she didn't stay?"

Lexa didn't know how to answer, because the answer was yes, but it was also no. Clarke had made the choice to go home, and Lexa had reinforced it. But if Aden wasn't here...

"I'm sorry I messed up your life," Aden said softly. 

Lexa turned to look at him, the movement so abrupt that he flinched, and she immediately softened. "You didn't mess up anything, Aden," she said, soft but fierce, because he needed to know it was true. She needed him to know it was true. "We chose this together, remember?"

He fidgeted, clinking his spoon against the bowl. "I know. But I didn't know it would mean you would have to give... stuff up."

"I haven't given up anything," Lexa said. She reached out and gently pried the spoon from his grip, then closed her fingers around his. "Clarke's on her way back. She'll help you with your project, and we'll take it from there. One day at a time, just like we've been doing. Okay?"

He finally looked up and met her eyes, and they were so blue, blue like Clarke's, and it made her smile and she wasn't even sure why, but it didn't matter because it made him smile back, and his shoulders dropped from around his ears, and they were okay. For now, they were okay.

* * *

Lexa went to the kitchen to make lunch... and to escape the project that had taken over the coffee table and a significant expanse of the living floor. It occurred to her that she might need to invest in an actual dining table at some point, instead of relying on the breakfast bar, but where would she put it? 

It made her happy, watching Clarke and Aden working side-by-side, talking and laughing and going through his notecards to decide what would be the best things to put on his visual aid for his presentation. But the project itself irked her, and she was having a hard time not letting it get under her skin. Why did teachers always insist on assigning projects that relied on knowing one's family history? Granted, Aden's allowed for the option of basing your presentation on information that you were able to research about the origins of your name – the visual aid they were creating was supposed to be some kind of personal Coat of Arms – but still, they always seemed to assume that children would have information about their past, or their family's past, readily available to them.

Clarke came into the kitchen in search of tin foil, and Lexa pointed to the cabinet under the sink. "If I have any, it's in the organizer on the door there," she said. 

"Thanks," Clarke said, pulling out what appeared to be a brand new tube of it that Lexa didn't remember buying. She turned to go back to Aden, then stopped. "Everything all right?" she asked, taking a step closer. 

Lexa nodded sharply. "It's fine."

"I hate that word," Clarke said. " _Fine._ It doesn't mean anything."

Lexa pressed her lips together, and the corners tipped down even though she was trying to smile. "You sound like my mom." 

"Well from everything I've heard, your mom was a pretty awesome woman, so I'm going to take that as a compliment," Clarke said. "Seriously, though, Lexa, if something's bothering you..."

Lexa set down the knife she'd been using the spread mustard on slices of bread and turned to face Clarke. "I had to do a project like that once," she said. "Seventh grade, I think. But it was really focused on your family, like creating a family tree and all that, and I just... it made me so angry. It _still_ makes me angry. Because I don't have that. I don't have a family tree. I don't have a past beyond my own lifetime. I don't know my parents' names. I don't know where they came from, or where their parents came from. I don't know if we've been in America since before it was America, or if they came from somewhere else in their lifetime. Right now the stores are full of green things emblazoned with, 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' and yeah, I know, everyone's Irish on St. Patrick's Day, but what about the other 364 days of the year? What am I then?" 

Clarke set down the aluminum foil and held out her arms, offering comfort if Lexa wanted it but not forcing anything, and Lexa closed her eyes and collapsed into her, just sucking in deep breaths scented with Clarke's shampoo until she felt steadier. 

"Sorry, I—"

"Don't," Clarke said softly. "Don't apologize for being human."

Lexa kissed her softly. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, either," Clarke said. "This is what friends are for." 

Lexa smiled, because Clarke was right. Whatever else she was to Lexa, she was also her friend, and Lexa really couldn't ask for a better one. "I _want_ to thank you," Lexa told her. "I want you to know how much you mean to me."

Clarke smirked. "You don't need words for that," she said, pushing up on her toes to press their lips together again, pulling Lexa just a little closer...

"Clarke, did you get the—"

Lexa pulled away from Clarke, knocking into the counter and sending the mustard-covered knife clattering to the ground. "Shit!"

"I'm sorry!" Aden said. "I didn't—"

"It's okay," Clarke said, handing him the aluminum foil. "Here. Just... I'll be right there."

"Okay!" he said, scurrying back into the living room, cheeks blazing. 

"Fuck my life," Lexa muttered as she cleaned up the mustard that had spattered everywhere. "Fuck, fuck, fuck my life." 

"That's what, five bucks?" Clarke asked, and Lexa tried to glare at her, but ended up giggling instead, and once she started, she couldn't stop. A few seconds later, Clarke joined her, and soon they were both gasping for breath. 

"Um... are you two okay?" Aden called from the living room, probably afraid to come back in the kitchen. 

Lexa finally managed to get herself under control. "We're fine," she said. "Just... we're fine." But then she started laughing again, because 'fine' was a meaningless word, and it took another few minutes to regain her composure and push herself up from the floor. 

"Can you go check and make sure he's not traumatized for life while I finish making lunch?" she asked Clarke.

"Why am _I_ on therapist duty?" Clarke asked, trying to look offended but failing.

"Because I have superior sandwich-making skills," Lexa said. 

"Says you," Clarke huffed, but she went into the living room anyway. 

Aden's cheeks and the tips of his ears were still a little red when they came back to get their sandwiches, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He wolfed down his sandwich, and then a second one almost as fast as Lexa could make it, and some potato chips besides. 

"He's going to need new jeans next week," Lexa said when he went back to the living room and his project. "Just wait."

Something flickered in Clarke's eyes, but it was gone before Lexa could read it. They finished cleaning the kitchen, then went back to the living room, Clarke grabbing one of the bigger throw pillows to use as a cushion as she sat on the floor. Lexa settled on the couch with her laptop, kicking her feet up to avoid accidentally stepping on the art supply explosion scattered across the floor. 

"What did you end up doing for your project?" Aden asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "I wasn't eavesdropping," he added quickly. "I just couldn't help hearing..."

"I didn't," Lexa said. "I didn't do the project." She wrinkled her nose. "Or I did, but not to my teacher's satisfaction." 

"Why didn't they like it?" Aden asked. 

"Because my family tree was just my name and whole bunch of question marks, and when I did my presentation I just said, 'I don't know,' and sat down." 

"Wow," Aden said. "Why didn't you just talk about your family you have now? Anya and Luna and your mom?"

"We didn't have Luna back yet," Lexa said. "I didn't know if I would ever see her again at that point and assumed I probably wouldn't. Malachi either. And I didn't think it was any of anyone's business." 

"What happened?" Aden asked. 

"I got sent to the principal and they called my mom – she wasn't my mom yet, officially, but I'd been with her a few years by then – and she ended up coming in for a conference, and she was upset at me for not telling her sooner so she could have helped me, seen about getting an alternative assignment or something, but she was also upset at the teacher for not being more sensitive to the fact that not every child has a standard nuclear family. She talked them into letting me make up the project, but I refused. I ended up getting a zero for it, which tanked my grade for the quarter, but I didn't care. It was only seventh grade, after all. It wasn't as if it mattered." She looked at Aden. "Don't get any ideas." 

He smirked. "I wasn't!" he said. 

"Good." She set her laptop aside and leaned over. "Can I see what you have so far?"

* * *

That night after Aden went to bed, Lexa looked at Clarke, who was half-asleep with her head resting on Lexa's chest, and decided that if Clarke didn't mention going home, she wasn't going to either. "Thank you," she murmured, combing her fingers through Clarke's hair. "For helping him. I wouldn't have done half as good a job." 

"Probably not," Clarke said, "but you would have tried." 

"Rude," Lexa said, sticking out her tongue... which Clarke seemed to take as an invitation... and they relocated themselves to the bedroom soon after, not wanting to risk any more incidents like the one earlier (even though they had only been kissing). Lexa quickly discovered just how much fun it could be to tease Clarke, knowing that she had to keep quiet... and how much less fun it was when the tables were turned and she was the one clamping a hand over her own mouth to stifle her moans as she came.

Clarke lifted her head and shifted, and Lexa's heart squeezed, thinking she might slide off the bed and start getting dressed. She reached out and grabbed her hand. "Don't go," she said. "Stay."

"Are you—"

"Please."

Clarke studied her for a long moment, then moved up to Lexa's side, drawing the covers up over them as she slid into Lexa's arms. "I don't sleep well without you either," she said softly. "Much as I love how passionate you are when we do get to see each other..."

"I would rather go to sleep next to you," Lexa finished for her.

"And wake up next to you," Clarke added.

"Yeah." Lexa sniffed and pulled Clarke closer. "I'm—"

Clarke shook her head, kissing her to stop the word from leaving her mouth. "I love you. This is who you are." She was quiet for few breaths, and then, "This isn't temporary, is it?"

Lexa went still, her stomach fluttering with sudden nerves. "It is," she said. "It's just until they find somewhere else for him to stay."

Clarke's forehead furrowed. "Is that what you want?" she asked. "Either of you?"

Lexa opened her mouth, but she didn't have an answer. A month ago... even a week ago... she might have, but after the last few days? She was no longer sure.

"You should think about it," Clarke said softly, "before someone else makes the decision for you."

* * *

Lexa woke up – surprised she'd slept as easily as she had, considering Clarke's last words to her the night before other than 'I love you' and 'Good night' – to an empty bed and the sound of someone obviously trying to be quiet in the kitchen. She quickly pulled on pajamas and went to go see what Clarke was up to, slipping her arms around her from behind and kissing her sleep-tangled hair. "Good morning," she said. 

"Hmph," Clarke answered. "I was trying to surprise you both with breakfast."

"I'll pretend," Lexa said, and put on her best surprised face when Clarke turned to look at her with narrowed eyes.

Clarke snorted. "Very convincing," she said. "You might as well help." 

"What are you doing?" Lexa asked. 

"Trying to shape bacon into four-leaf clovers," Clarke said. 

Lexa laughed, planting a kiss behind her ear. "Have I told you lately how awesome you are?"

"I'm just taking a page out of your holiday playbook," Clarke said, turning her head to kiss Lexa's cheek. "Or have you forgotten the Valentine's Day heart-stravaganza?"

"I haven't forgotten," Lexa said. "I should have gotten a shamrock cookie cutter." 

"In the bag," Clarke said, nodding toward the counter. Lexa let go of her to look, and found the aforementioned cookie cutter, as well as cups and napkins covered in shamrocks, and even bendy-straws shaped like them. "I did a little shopping on my way over yesterday. Just in case."

Lexa blinked against the sudden burning in her eyes. "I love you," she said, her voice gone hoarse and wobbly. 

"I love you too," Clarke said, putting down the bacon long enough to draw Lexa into a soft, slow kiss. "I was going to do French toast. Do you want to start cutting out the bread?"

"On it," Lexa said, pulling an older loaf from the pantry. 

They worked side by side, mostly in silence, and Lexa found herself smiling the entire time, her heart so full it ached. They assembled the plates and lined them up at the breakfast bar. As Clarke turned to go knock on Aden's door, Lexa reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Wait." Clarke turned to looked at her, and Lexa let her hand slide down, lacing their fingers together. "I may never know if I'm Irish—"

"You could always do one of those DNA ancestry tests," Clarke said. 

"And sell my genetic profile to the highest bidder? No thanks," Lexa said. " _Anyway_... I may never know if I'm Irish, and it may have been an elf rather than a leprechaun, but I do know one thing." 

"What's that?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa pulled her in and kissed her. "The day I met you, Clarke Griffin, was the day I became the luckiest woman in the world."


End file.
